(I Could Just) Fade Into You
by Katie Havok
Summary: "I'm nobody's mother," Tina corrects him, smirking when he whirls around to face her with wide eyes. "At least, not yet." / Newt, Tina, the book launch and everything that comes after.


**Warnings** for being rather AU, since this was written in November 2017 and we hadn't received nearly as much information about _The Crimes of Grindelwald_ then, as well as some fairly non-graphic smut toward the end.

* * *

The tattered slip of paper snaps in the breeze as Tina looks up at the block of flats, brow furrowing at the imposing exterior walkways and soot-darkened brick. _Well_ , she thinks and allows herself a rueful smile while walking toward the arched central doorway. _I guess that explains the specific directions!_

Tina climbs up and up and _up_ as instructed, veering right down a long, open-aired hallway to stop before the last door of Battersea House. She laughs in unexpected delight at the riotous plants overflowing their holders and smirks at the laundry drying on the line before squaring her shoulders and knocking.

A familiar voice bids her entrance, and Tina indulges in a fond shiver before pulling open the peeling blue door.

Her first impression of the space is that it's positively sun-drenched, light streaming through the arched casement windows set into three of the four walls. The apartment itself is all one room, with a stove, hearth, and sink crowded against one wall, and a bookshelf, workspace, wardrobe and desk squeezed against the other. The furthest wall is separated from the rest of the living space by a wide curtain, and she spies the end of a neatly-made wooden bed with a ball of spotted ginger fluff curled atop a pile of knitted blankets snoozing in a shaft of sunlight.

Tina takes it all in with hungry curiosity, noting the books, drawings, and teacups scattered throughout before her eyes are drawn to the sole occupant of the room.

Newt stands with his back to her, squinting into a small, dusty mirror and buttoning his shirt. "You don't need to knock every time, mum," he says in fond but exasperated tones, snapping his striped braces into place before shrugging on his waistcoat. "I've told you, you're always welcome here, especially when you are taking time out of your schedule to help me."

"I'm nobody's mother," Tina corrects him, smirking when he whirls around to face her with wide eyes. "At least, not yet."

"Merlin's beard. _Tina_ ," Newt breathes. His eyes seem to drink her in, moving over her tailored slacks and leather trench coat atop a georgette blouse, lingering on her lips before focusing on her face. "Is it really you? You're really here?"

"It's really me," she confirms and laughs delightedly when he trips across the room to stand before her, his hands hovering awkwardly. Newt presses his lips together as he examines her, his eyes suspiciously bright until he slowly reaches out to card his fingers through her bangs and smoothes down her hair.

"You have a fringe now," he murmurs, his thumb lingering on the ridge of her cheek before moving away. "It suits you. Brings out your eyes."

Tina's face aches from smiling, happy tears blurring her vision. "Queenie said the same thing," she laughs, and reaches out to touch his collar, watching his throat bob when he swallows. "You've got a new shirt. And your bowtie, it's very fashionable. I like it."

Newt smiles, ducking his head in faint embarrassment. "My mother is responsible for that," he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning endearingly pink when he hesitantly touches her pinky finger with his own. "She's originally of the clan McKinnon and insisted I look respectable now that I'm published. To her mind, respectability equals tartan; I had no say in the matter."

"Well, you look very dapper," she reassures him, admiring his spit-shined boots and fine gray trousers before meeting his eyes. "I'll have to thank her, should we ever meet."

"I don't suppose that'll be a problem, lass," an amused voice drawls behind them.

They jerk apart as if scalded, Newt's face flushing as his hands fold into intricate stress-patterns before him. Tina instinctively reaches for her wand while turning, appraising their surroundings until a woman, tall and handsome with loud red hair and a friendly face, smiles at her. She gives Tina a knowing look before turning to Newt with a raised eyebrow, smirking when he seems to shrink in place.

"This must be your Tina," the woman says kindly. Tina gasps when she speaks, the instant resemblance taking her breath away. "I can see why you think so highly of her. She's a quick one, she is, and good hips besides. She'll have no problem giving birth, mark my words!"

Tina thinks she should be offended by such frank appraisal, but it's delivered with such honest _warmth_ that all she can do is giggle when Newt covers his eyes with one hand, his face flaming red.

"She's not one of your 'Griff's, mum," he says with exaggerated patience and stares imploringly at the floor before turning to Tina in an obvious attempt to shake off his mortification. "Miss Goldstein, please allow me to introduce to you my mother, Lady Scamander, wife of—"

"Oh, enough of that guff," Mrs. Scamander says, waving a work-roughened hand before pulling Tina into an expansive and maternal hug. Tina surprises herself by folding into it, inhaling the scent of animals and sunshine that clings to this woman and smiling at her when they separate.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," Tina says honestly, dropping a small curtsy when she recalls her manners. Mrs. Scamander grins in a way that is poignantly familiar, white teeth on full display as a freckled hand pushes Tina's hair out of her eyes before patting her cheek.

"And it's fine to know you," she says and winks at her son over Tina's shoulder. "I _like_ this one, Newton," she says conspiratorially, releasing Tina to straighten the shoulders of Newt's suit coat as he turns his face away, patiently enduring her fashing.

Mrs. Scamander declares him good enough after brushing his sleeves clean of invisible hair, clasping her hands delightedly while addressing Tina. "He only needs to fix that blasted tie of his," she says in an undertone, "and I think he'd like it better if you helped him with that, don't you?"

She doesn't allow either of them a chance to respond, blowing Newt a stout kiss before waving and making her way through the apartment. The door swings shut behind her, and Tina stares at it until Newt clears his throat, fingers tangling in the hem of his suit jacket.

"I am... _so_ sorry," he gasps. "I don't know what she was thinking but I can assure you that I am more than capable of tying my own tie. After all, I—"

His words stutter to a halt when Tina boldly steps forward and grasps his collar. She makes sure his buttons are secure and his lapels straight before knotting his bowtie, watching his throat bob convulsively until she falls still, her fingertips lightly grazing his skin. He dips his chin to look at her, wrapping long fingers around her wrists while gazing into her eyes.

"You don't want it to be crooked," Tina whispers and shows a hesitant smile. "Not on the day of your book launch."

Newt blinks confusedly before squeezing her wrists. "How did you know about that?" he asks. "Do they announce that sort of thing in American newspapers?"

Tina gently disengages from him to reach inside her coat, heart soaring when he automatically transfers his hands to her elbows. She pulls out an embossed, blue cardboard rectangle and passes it over to him without comment.

Newt reads the note on the back with a furrowed brow, which clears in understanding before meeting her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I really didn't think you'd be interested," he mumbles and looks away before glancing at her pleadingly. "Please forgive me for not sending you an invitation myself."

"There's nothing to forgive," Tina says honestly. "I wasn't even sure I'd be able to make it, that's why I never wrote to let you know I'd be coming. Can you forgive _me_ for dropping in unannounced?"

"There is nothing to forgive," Newt repeats back to her with a smile, and squeezes her hand before putting space between them. "How long will you be in town, Tina? Do you have a place to stay or do you need recommendations? London has some nice hotels and taverns I could show you if you'd like."

She reluctantly lets him go, hands twisting nervously at her side. "I haven't had time to find a room," Tina admits, "and I'm only staying for two days before I head to Paris. It's all I could get off from work. I was hoping to see you, and I'm happy I can be here for your book launch if you'd still like me to go."

Newt's head snaps up. "Of course I'd like you to attend!" he exclaims. "You'll be my only friend there, and I can't tell you how much — well, how much that would mean to me." He looks at her shyly from beneath his lashes before looking away, his eyes skirting the edges of his apartment. "So you could stay at the Common Tavern just up the road. It's clean enough and they've good food. There's the Leaky Cauldron which is magical, though you'll pay more there. And — and there's here, too. My flat, I mean."

He makes a quick gesture, actively avoiding eye contact. "I know it's small but it's clean, and I'm more than happy to let you take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch and you needn't worry about mice or insects because Ginger takes care of those handily."

The ball of fluff on the bed lifts its head at the sound of its name, making a curious sound before stretching and sauntering over to wind around their legs, purring thunderously. Newt sinks into a crouch to scratch the creature's ears before opening his arms, allowing the beast to lay its head on his shoulder in a hug of sorts. Tina laughs when he stands, stroking its head before turning to allow her to see the beasts' squashed face.

"Tina, meet Ginger," Newt intones, smiling at her from over the top of Ginger's head. "She's a Kneazle. I found her when she was a kit, abandoned by her mother, likely because she was the runt of the litter. I nursed her back to health and have kept her ever since, and now she's the _terror_ of Sherringford Square." Ginger makes a complacent-sounding _mrmph_ at that, and Newt laughs while butting his head gently against hers, grinning at the beast. "Yes, yes, and you're quite proud of that fact. We all _know_."

Ginger's ears perk up suddenly, her body going rigid when Newt bends to deposit her on the floor. She takes off like a shot, disappearing through a crack in the door, and he smiles after her fondly before brushing his jacket. "This is part of the reason I wear so much brown," he mumbles, seemingly to himself. "Her bloody fur blends right in!"

"The gray _is_ a bit of a change," Tina admits, and haltingly brushes his upper arm until he falls still, watching her curiously. "I think I like the color on you, though. It makes you look very distinguished."

"Mother said the same thing," Newt says in a low voice. Tina looks up to find his eyes, reminded once again of how very _green_ they are, before shifting her attention to his mouth. She realizes all at once that he's clean-shaven, his freckled skin smooth, and she wonders what it would feel like against her lips.

She holds her breath when he reaches for her hand and squeezes gently. "Stay here with me," he blurts and doesn't look away when she stares at him in shock. "I swear to continue to be a perfect gentleman but please...stay. Let me repay you for the night's you gave up your bed for me."

Tina exhales slowly before nodding. "I'll stay," she says and looks down at their joined hands when he continues to watch her with impossibly soft eyes. She rotates her wrist to thread their fingers, pressing their palms together. Newt starts a little before moving close enough for her to smell a citrusy cologne layered atop the lingering scent of plants and herbs on his clothes.

"Thank you," he whispers, hesitantly cupping her cheek without the pretext of her hair. Their eyes meet and remain locked until a clock chimes loudly behind them, causing them both to start. Newt laughs awkwardly when he finally steps back, and Tina watches as his walls and defenses go back up, hands falling limply away from her as he bends to inspect his case.

"We'll just leave this here," he murmurs. Tina raises her eyebrows when he uses his wand to lock, ward, and disillusion his case before tucking it into a hidden corner. He reaches for his greatcoat and shrugs into it before dragging a tortoiseshell comb through his hair. It makes no difference that Tina can see but he seems satisfied. Newt straightens his bowtie and smoothed his lapels one last time before turning to her with his arms spread.

"Do I look... _respectable_ enough?"

 _You look wonderful_ , Tina thinks, but she can't bring herself to say it. She nods and threads her arm through his when he offers it after locking and warding the door, the wind tugging on their hair as he escorts her through the streets of London to Diagon Alley.

* * *

Tina gets to witness an entirely new side of Newt over the hours of the book launch: the consummate professional wholly in his element, naturally confident when speaking of his beasts, and able to temporarily hide his nervous disposition in the face of hordes of curious humans — and not a few coiffed, perfumed witches all too eager to lean over the table and bat their eyelashes at him.

Newt seems immune to their charms, his eyes seeking and finding Tina's when his smile gets to be especially strained. She smiles back as confidently as she can, and he blinks and ducks his head before dismissing his guest and moving on to the next one, signing his or her book, making quick small-talk and doing his best to work through the winding queue.

"I have to admit," a cultured voice remarks behind her, "I wouldn't have expected Newton to handle this so well, yet he seems entirely in his element."

"Well," his female companion sniffs in a haughty French lilt, "you know your brother is focused only on his creatures. Of course, he's able to talk about them; it's all he _ever_ talks about."

The cultured voice chuckles and Tina turns to watch as a tall, dark-haired wizard with a familiar profile and his companion, a witch in clinging satin robes, share a complex look. "You're Theseus Scamander," she blurts without thinking, only to retreat half a step when he sighs tiredly and the beautiful woman frowns.

"Yes, I am," Theseus tells Tina, "and I'd appreciate it if you didn't announce it to the entire shop. We are here to support my brother, Mr. Newton Scamander, and while I respect—"

Tina reaches into her jacket to withdraw the invitation, thrusting it toward them printed side up. "You sent me this," she says in placating tones. "I'm here for him just as much as you are, and I'm sorry that I interrupted you and Miss…?"

"Lestrange," the woman says cooly, somehow looking down her nose at Tina despite being nearly a full foot shorter than her. "Leta Lestrange, Theseus' fiance."

"It's very nice to meet you," Tina says stoutly and offers her hand. To her surprise, Theseus and Leta share another inscrutable look being relaxing visibly and shaking with her.

"We've heard a lot about you," Theseus says in warmer tones, sizing her up with Auror eyes. "My brother usually doesn't seem to notice women, and yet he went on about you for the longest time." He peers at her closely, from the top of her head to the toes of her sensible boots, and Tina invests a conscious effort in keeping her shoulders straight. "I knew he wouldn't send you an invitation so I thought I'd better take the initiative."

"Do you usually go behind his back to do things in his stead?" Tina asks before she has a chance to think better of it, only to wince internally when Theseus' face tightens. To her surprise, Leta laughs, hoisting a sardonic eyebrow at her fiance while tilting her chin imperiously.

"I told him not to do it," she confides, "but these Scamander men, they never listen to anything but their own worst ideas." She shifts to wrap her arm around Theseus, putting her ostentatious engagement ring on full display. Tina tries not to stare as Leta turns on the charm, positively dripping sensuality. "It's gotten them both in trouble more than once, you know."

"So I've heard," Tina says shortly and inclines her head in parting before putting her back to them with the abrupt realization that she's had enough of London and wizarding high society. She's anxious to get back to the relatively fresher air of Diagon Alley and approaches close enough to catch Newt's eye before gesturing toward the door. He nods in understanding, his jaw flexing when Theseus and Leta queue up in line, before showing a shaky smile and turning back to his latest visitor.

"I'll show myself out, then," she mutters, bullying her way through the crowd until mid-March sunshine greets her. She sighs heavily while taking up position beside the entrance, scanning the passing crowds by habit until a man in a blue corduroy jacket pushes open the shop doors to smile at her through his neatly trimmed beard.

"Ah," he says in the manner of greeting an old friend. "You must be Miss Goldstein, here to join our Mr. Scamander on this most august occasion." Tina frowns at the man in confusion when he offers her a wrapped candy, his blue eyes twinkling as he goes on. "Sorry, it's terribly rude of me not to introduce myself first. I'm Albus Dumbledore. I took tea with Newt not too long ago, and he spoke highly of a certain lady friend he made while visiting New York."

The man, Dumbledore, blinks amusedly when she haltingly extends a hand before going on. "I heard in the usual way that this friend would likely be here, and since you are inarguably not from these parts and undeniably American, I assumed she was you." He twinkles at her before touching her fingers. "Besides, I'd know your face anywhere, even having never seen it. Newt certainly spoke of it enough, and in great detail too."

"Did he?" Tina asks weakly, feeling as though the wind has been knocked from her.

"Oh, yes. He was quite taken with your eyebrows, I believe." Professor Dumbledore chuckles kindly before pressing the candy into her hand, his touch warm and dry. "Take this, Miss Goldstein. Keep your strength up. I think you'll find you will need it with him." He tips his head back to examine the storefront before smiling and touching the brim of his hat. "And do say hello to our friend for me, will you? I'm afraid I must be off on important business. Good day to you."

Tina watches him duck into the crowd, seeming to disappear as she waves bemusedly. "Um, bye."

A hand grabs her elbow, breaking her stupor. Tina yanks her wand from its holster and whirls in one smooth motion, pressing the tip between familiar, mild green eyes — eyes which blink at her in confusion. "Tina?"

She feels her cheeks heating with the force of her blush as she stuffs her wand back into her pocket, smoothing down her hair and clearing her throat before producing a smile. "Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to put you at wand point but you snuck up on me!"

"You've good reflexes," Newt murmurs approvingly, ruefully rubbing the pink spot on his forehead before showing a heart-stopping smile. "I'm glad you're quick to react. Makes me feel better, knowing that you are so well trained."

His quick smile and easy compliment combine to weaken Tina's knees, her thoughts trembling to a halt. She stands there staring at him until a throat clears pointedly from somewhere behind her, gruffly asking them to get out of the bloody way. Newt blinks before jerking into motion, laying a hand on her elbow to quickly lead her across the street, all while tossing apologies over his shoulder.

"You can stop now," Tina says wryly when they've reached the opposite end of Diagon Alley. "I don't think he's behind us anymore."

Newt slows to a more relaxed pace, his hand never leaving her arm. "I never can quite get out of the habit of apologizing," he admits sheepishly. "I suppose I don't _have_ to, but…"

"But you feel like you're taking up space for other people, and you should say sorry for the privilege. I know." Tina turns to face him. "But you never have to feel like that with me, okay?"

"You said that last time," Newt murmurs. "In New York, at your flat, when you insisted I take your bed."

She smiles at him, squeezing his hand. "I meant it then, too. And if it's really still bothering you, then I'll take your bed tonight for the sake of fairness."

Newt moistens his lips with a flash of tongue before haltingly meeting her eyes. "That _would_ make me feel better," he admits, looking anywhere but at her. "Would you — would you like to go to bed now?" He winces before hurrying on, bouncing awkwardly on the balls of his feet as she smiles appreciatively. "What I mean is, it's getting late and I know how difficult it can be to jump over time zones. We could go back to my flat so you can sleep..."

Tina sighs and looks at the surrounding storefronts, gas lights slowly coming on as the shadows fall. "I wouldn't mind a nap," she admits, "but isn't it time for tea or something? I can wait a while longer."

He chuckles while reaching for her hand. "Then if you don't mind, we'll take the scenic route," Newt says with a charmingly crooked smile. "We'll walk the promenade along the river. It's a bit longer to reach home but the view is spectacular." He swallows before going on in a softer voice, looking at her shyly from beneath his fringe. "I'd love to show it to you."

She squeezes his hand while pulling her coat tighter around her, murmuring a warming charm. "I'd like that," Tina says and laughs. "Lead us on, Mr. Scamander."

"Alright — this way, then," Newt murmurs, and shows a quick smile before tugging her along, his hand warm and steady in hers.

* * *

The promenade is just as beautiful as Newt had promised, but Tina finds it harder and harder to pay attention to the scenery the longer she remains in his company. His proximity seems to seep in and fill every one of her senses until she finds herself comparing the breeze to the brush of his hand, the noise of the waves lapping at the concrete banks to the sound of his voice.

A stiff gust of wind blows her hair into her face, temporarily obscuring her vision of him. She reaches up to push it away but Newt is quicker, and their fingers brush when he sweeps her hair aside before cupping her cheek, staring unflinchingly into her eyes.

"I'd like to go home now," Tina whispers without looking away.

Newt's jaw flexes in her periphery, but she's focused only on his eyes when he reaches for his wand and disillusions them before sliding an arm around her waist and Disapparating them away.

* * *

Newt takes her coat and shoes once they've reached his flat, shedding his suit jacket before steering her to the couch. She settles down to watch as he puts on the kettle and stokes up a blazing fire in the hearth, adding heat and soft light to the room while tugging the curtains closed. He looks at her curiously before delving into a small cedar chest at the foot of the bed, withdrawing spare blankets and linens and pouring cups of hot tea while laying out a variety of cookies and sandwiches.

"It's not much," Newt apologizes when he sets the tray before her, "but it will hold us over until breakfast. I'll take you out in the morning, I know just the place."

Tina smiles while reaching for a triangle, biting into it to discover that it is cheese and watercress and quite good. "I look forward to it," she says honestly, taking a sip from her mug. The brew is light and herbal, warmth pooling in her stomach when she closes her eyes to savor it. "Oh, that's good."

"Chamomile," Newt murmurs, "though I'll admit there's a dollop of whiskey in there, too. I find I sleep better that way."

"That's so... _British_ ," Tina says with a laugh and takes another sip. "It is good, though. You'll have to show me where you buy it so I can bring some home."

Newt chases the last bite of his strawberry wafer with a sip of tea. "Oh, I grow it," he tells her, blushing slightly. "Grow it, harvest it, dry it, and prepare satchels myself. I learned the art of tea in India. Took it around the world with me. It's an invaluable resource in colder climates."

"I believe it!" Tina grins at him, once more impressed by the depth and breadth of his knowledge, before yawning and stretching. She's not blind to the way his eyes linger on her arms when they extend above her head, dropping briefly to her chest before widening and looking away.

She smirks while gathering their empty cups and the remnants of their light supper, wrapping the leftovers and storing them in his tiny ice chest before leaning against Newt's workspace. "Could you tell me where the toilet is, please? I'd like to wash up before bed."

Newt dresses the couch, speaking to her from over his shoulder. "There's a water closet two doors down the hall on the left," he says and crosses the room to push back the curtain separating the bedroom from the rest of the space, fluffing her pillow. "But it's hardly large enough to be of any use, I'm afraid. You'll have to resign yourself to a basin and sponge. Even enlarging the tub doesn't allow for a proper bath, there's too much overlapping magic in this building."

Tina's heart sinks with his words, and she looks over at his basin with a frown. "Is that what you do?" she asks. "Just use a washcloth and soap all the time?"

Newt chuckles while pulling back the blankets and smoothing the bed sheets. "Not at all," he tells her. "I have a water hook in my case but when I need some solitude, I enlarge the washbasin over there for a bath. It works well, plus I'm always warm because I'm close to the fire."

"Solitude," Tina echoes wryly, watching with satisfaction as his face suffuses with blood.

"What I mean," Newt explains patiently, " is there are times when even _I_ cannot be close to my creatures. If I'm stuck on a section of my writing or the words elude me, a nice soak always seems to help me untangle my thoughts." He moves to the wardrobe, reaching inside before glancing over his shoulder at her. "Do you need something to sleep in?"

She considers her answer carefully, calling to mind the short and slinky nightgowns Queenie had packed for her, before nodding. "If you don't mind. I don't think the ones I brought with me will hold up to an English night."

"It can be chilly," Newt agrees sagely and withdraws two stacks before handing one over to her. The pajamas he gives her are fine blue silk, embroidered with bronze dragons that move and belch flame in the firelight. She grins delightedly before touching one, watching it skitter away from the brush of her hand.

"Oh, Newt, I can't take these," Tina says, intimidated by their beauty. "What if I spill something on them?"

Newt looks up from where he's tugging off his waistcoat to grin at her. "Are you a witch or not?" he teases. "You needn't worry, Tina. I promise, there's nothing you could do to those that would negatively affect them." He sits on the couch to tug off his boots and socks to inspect his feet, feet which are long and sturdy and strangely vulnerable looking, before sending his clothes to the laundry pile. "Tina. _Please_ stop worrying."

Tina stops chewing her bottom lip to look up at him from beneath her lashes. "As long as you're sure," she says, tucking the bundle beneath her arm while reaching into her trouser pocket for her satchel. She enlarges it with a tap of her wand before looking around nervously. "Um — do you mind giving me maybe 15 minutes? I won't be long but…"

He looks at her blankly for a moment before jerking into motion. "Oh — oh, yes, of course. Um..." A flick of his wand Summons the basin, which he Scourgify's before Transfiguring into a bathtub and situating in front of the fire. Another flick of his wand fills it with steaming water. Newt summons a plush bath towel and conjures a robe to lay them on the end of the couch before taking a step back, his eyes hovering in the vicinity of her feet. "I'll just...be in my case. I'll use the water hook down there to clean up, and then we'll...we'll go to bed."

"Okay," Tina says faintly and remains rooted in place when Newt sends her a pained look before laying his case on the floor and climbing inside. He hesitates with his head poking out, nervously eying her. "I'll knock when I'm finished," Tina reassures him, and he nods and makes brief eye contact before vanishing, the locks clicking into place behind him.

"Way to scare him off, Goldstein," Tina sighs to herself and indulges in a moment of self-pity before reaching for the hem of her blouse, determinedly ignoring the frustrated tears in her eyes.

* * *

Twenty minutes later and Tina feels much better, if exhausted.

She waits until the towel has been hung to dry and the basin returned to its rightful place before knocking on the case. The lid swings open immediately, extruding a gleaming copper head as Newt climbs out. His skin and hair shine mellowly in the low light and his pajamas are much less extravagant than her own, simple brown striped flannel. Plain wool socks dress his feet, and he shuffles awkwardly to tuck his case away before looking up at her through his hair, his mouth slowly unhinging.

He breathes her name, and Tina checks to make sure her buttons are matched and her collar straight before staring at him confusedly. He's staring at her as if she is the culmination of every dream he's ever had, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides, and it takes her a moment to realize this look is not one of condemnation or complaint but simple admiration.

Newt takes a deep but shaky breath before meeting her eyes. "I want you to keep those," he says slowly. "They — Tina, those pajamas look far better on you than they _ever_ did on me."

Tina shakes her head before he's even finished, her hands curling into nervous fists. "I can't keep them," she says helplessly. "They're yours, and I don't agree — blue is _your color_ , Newt. Besides, they don't fit, they're a bit... _tight_."

His eyes move automatically to her hips, where the material stretches slightly to accommodate her curves. "...I don't see a problem," Newt whispers hoarsely, eyes widening when he seems to realize how forward he sounds. Tina can't help but smile as he grimaces at the floor, and she touches the back of his hand forgivingly when he crosses the room to usher her into bed with the offer of putting out the lights.

"I wouldn't want you to bang your shins in the dark," he explains, hovering over her for a moment before tucking the blanket around her shoulders, his hands lingering warmly. "Sleep well, Tina."

The pillows and sheets are imbued with his scent: the earthiness of dirt, the tang of his cologne, and a musky, masculine odor she recognizes as his skin. Tina breathes deeply of it before nodding, reassuring him that yes, she thinks she'll sleep _quite_ well and wishing him a good night.

Newt smiles faintly before ducking into brush his lips over her forehead, blowing out the bedside candle and moving away. She rolls onto her side to watch ashe banks the fire and checks the stove, and the last thing she sees before sleep claims her is Newt climbing onto the couch, his hair a beacon in the darkness.

* * *

The moan of tired springs wakes Tina sometime later.

She rubs her eyes before squinting into the unfamiliar darkness to find Newt laying on the couch, the line of his body rigid. "I'm sorry," his voice drifts over in a whisper. "I didn't mean to wake you, but this couch is positively _wretched_ for sleeping." He shifts and the springs protest loudly until he flings back the blankets and sits up to glower at the cushions. "I'm going to go into my case. I don't want to keep you up."

Tina nervously bites her lip before moving across the mattress until her back touches the wall, lifting the blankets in invitation. She blames her exhausted state for the words that pour out of her mouth before she has a chance to examine them too closely. "You could share the bed with me, you know," she murmurs, trying hard to sound confident despite her fluttering heart. "I don't mind, and this way, we'll both get some sleep."

Newt jerks his head up to look at her, his eyes wide. "You — what?" he asks and crosses his arms to rub his elbows in indecision. "You don't mind sharing with me?"

"No," Tina says implacably and pats the sheets. "It'll be tight, but at least we'll be warm." She yawns before laying her head down on the pillow and closing her eyes. "You can still go into your case if you want, but the offer is open."

Tina holds her breath as she waits for him to decide. She can hear his breathing from across the room, his respiration light and quick until he sighs raggedly and the couch groans in relief. His footsteps are silent when he crosses to her; only the shifting of the mattress and his careful exhale gives Newt away when he climbs gingerly into bed, ensuring she has her fair share of the blankets before rolling rigidly onto his side.

She waits for his breathing to calm before shifting closer to him, sighing happily.

"Is this...alright?" Newt asks after a few tense minutes, his voice shaking.

Tina nods and opens her eyes to the vulnerable nape of his neck, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. "Yes," she tells him honestly, "but it would be better if you weren't so tense. Here—" Slow, hesitant movements close the gap between their bodies, and she feels more than hears his sigh when her chest presses lightly into his back, her arm curled between them. "Like this."

Newt clears his throat while settling the blankets over them both. "Are you comfortable?" he asks. Tina hums happily while pressing her forehead between his shoulder blades. She hears his throat click when he swallows, his hand sliding over his stomach to take hers. Tina hides her smile in his pajamas when he gently urges her arm around his waist, encouraging her to embrace him. She squeezes his hand reassuringly before sighing and allows herself to relax, soaking in his warmth.

Five minutes later and Newt is still tense and unmoving, his body rigid in her arms. Tina sighs and squeezes her eyes shut before sliding her other hand up his back to stroke the nape of his neck. "You need to relax," she murmurs, gently kneading his skin. "I can't sleep if you're pretending to be a sack of crowbars, Newt."

He makes a low sound while shifting nervously, and her fingers fall still when a thought occurs to her. "Hey. Are you uncomfortable like this? Would you really prefer to go sleep in your case?"

Tina holds her breath when he inhales sharply before slowly shaking his head. "No," Newt tells her in a bare whisper. "Actually...could you touch me like that some more, please? It...it feels nice."

She hides her smile in his hair when she resumes her tentative explorations, kneading the tensed muscles of his neck before stroking his skin. Her movements grow bolder as he relaxes, reaching the edge of his pajamas to touch his back before carding through his hair. She delights in the changes to his breathing when she pulls the fabric aside to inspect his skin, finding it smoother than she would have expected, heavy with freckles and flecked with scars.

Newt's breath catches when she unthinkingly leans forward to kiss an especially enticing cluster of freckles, reaffirming their solid reality beneath her lips. He sighs raggedly when she shifts to press her lips to the start of a nasty-looking scar just beneath his hairline, moving lower to follow its path and pushing his pajamas aside until he rocks his head forward to break the contact between them, his body tense once more, though she suspects it's for an entirely different reason.

Dismay fills her when he goes still, his fingers clamped around her own. He inhales sharply before rolling to face her, his eyes wide in his face, his expression carefully neutral. Tina expects him to ask her to stop or, worse, to declare he's going to retreat to his case, so she's entirely unprepared for it when he gently cups her face before brushing her mouth with his, the contact as light as a thunderbird's feather.

"Oh," she breathes and clutches the front of his shirt as he pulls back to search her eyes before leaning in when he finds what he's looking for, kissing her a little deeper, a little more boldly. She presses her tongue to his lower lip, moaning deep in her throat when he grants her access, and she strokes the roof of his mouth until he makes a rough purring sound and rolls to put her beneath him, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Tina clings to his shoulders as his mouth moves from her lips to her jaw, her neck, the notch in her mandarin collar. She breathes out delighted sounds when Newt toys with the buttons on her shirt, kissing every inch of newly-revealed skin before returning to her lips until she is bare to the waist, her wet nipples tingling in the cool air of the bedroom, anxiety forgotten in the face of his ardor.

He secures permission before sinking lower in the bed to press her thighs apart. Tina lifts her hips to assist him in peeling off the form-fitting silk before dangling her calves over his back as he laves the achy hollow between her legs. He cradles her hips when they roll against him in search of release, and gasped iterations of his name fill the small space when she finds it, her fingers tugging his hair as she spills over the edge.

Newt makes his slow way over the peaks and valleys of her body before guiding her hands to the fastenings of his pajamas, wordlessly encouraging her to help him undress. She can feel the slight nervous tremor in his frame as she helps him free his gangling limbs from his nightclothes, tossing them aside before he presses her into the mattress, his body a warm and welcome weight. He kisses her deeply as he urges her legs around the back of his thighs, his tongue stroking hers when she fumbles between them to guide his way, gasping into his mouth as he fills her.

Tina rakes her fingernails across his scalp when he holds himself pointedly still, his lips drawing shaky halos across her skin. " _Newt_ ," she breathes in supplication, and he murmurs soothingly before sliding his palm up her arm to lace their fingers, shifting to look into her eyes when he experimentally anchors his hips forward.

They find their rhythm with eyes locked, breathing in tandem to the sound of gasps and sighs. Tina can still sense how nervous he is, her own shyness, but none of that _matters_ as she clutches his shoulders and tingling heat spreads throughout her body, moaning when he breaks eye contact to stretch over her, covering her mouth with his own.

She's never known completion with another, and can't be sure it will happen even as her breath hitches in her throat, until the molten wave buries her. She rocks her head back to cry out his name, fingernails sinking into his skin, feeling his answering sigh. Newt surges forward to reclaim her lips, his steady tempo wringing every last bit of pleasure from her body as she slumps into the pillows with a satisfied moan, until he tenses and shivers before going still, flooding her with warmth.

" _Oh_ ," Tina gasps, staring at him with wide eyes while stroking his hair and nuzzling his cheek. "Oh, _Newt_."

Newt hums in satisfaction before laying his head on her shoulder. "Tina," he murmurs between balming kisses. "Tina, that was…"

"Wasn't it?" she asks, and lightly drags her fingertips the length of his spine, delighting in his shiver. "I don't know about you, but I'm certainly worn out now!"

He laughs tiredly before lifting his head, his cheeks wet. "I could sleep," he whispers and closes his eyes when she wipes away his tears. She kisses his eyelids before allowing him to shuffle to her side, pulling him close as he presses his face into her throat. Newt takes her hands to kiss her palms before sighing deeply, his eyes drifting closed even as she watches.

"Tina, you are..." He can't seem to find the words, and he shakes his head before pressing even closer, his lips lightly brushing her skin. "Do you suppose it'll ever stop?" he asks. "The way I...the _wanting_ you?"

Tina presses a kiss into his temple. "I don't know," she answers honestly, "but as long as you want me...as long as you want to be _close_ to me... I'll be here."

Newt sighs before brushing her forehead with his lips. "I don't think I will ever _not_ want you," he reassures her, and Tina closes her eyes as warmth fills her chest. His arms remain firmly around her when they grow quiet and settle, the steady rhythm of his breathing eventually lulling her into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

Morning brings softly patterning raindrops and the hustle of London city life, so similar to New York yet so different.

Tina opens her eyes to the sight of a sleeping Newt, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist. She memorizes the relaxed lines in his face, the curve of his lips and the delicate fan of his eyelashes before reaching over her head to pat a purring Ginger, who lays nestled in their hair.

The Kneazle chirrups before tapping their scalps with her paws, kneading rhythmically until Newt's eyelashes flutter and he blinks himself awake to focus on Tina, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small but genuine smile.

"Good morning," he purrs, and the timbre of his voice _does_ something to her, invoking a shiver as her skin tingles in anticipation.

"Good morning," she repeats breathlessly, and it feels as natural as breathing to capture him in a sweet kiss until Newt breaks away to cradle her jaw, his eyes bright.

"I could get used to waking up like this," he tells her, stroking his thumb over her bottom lip before lifting his head to speak to Ginger, who yowls in greeting. "I'm very glad you approve, Ginge."

Ginger meows while standing on Tina's forehead to nuzzle her face with a wet nose. Tina laughs as Newt wrangles his pet, gently pulling her into his arms and climbing out of bed. "Alright, alright," he tells the kneazle while fishing around on the floor for his pajamas, his skin burnished by the morning glow. "You'll get your breakfast in a moment."

Tina props her head onto a fist to watch as he pulls on his underwear and pajama bottoms before rifling through a box on his desktop to scoop out some feed. Ginger voices her thanks when he fills her bowl, and Newt takes a moment to scritch behind her ears before ambling over to the bed, a cautious smile lighting up his face.

He perches on the edge to offer a hand, and Tina chooses not to feel self-conscious when sitting puts her bare breasts on full display. Newt cups one gently, humming when her nipple springs to life against his palm before leaning in for a kiss. It's as good as the ones they shared last night, perhaps even better, and his cheeks are flushed when he finally pulls away, his lips swollen.

"No, I don't think it'll _ever_ stop," he murmurs, alluding to their conversation of the previous evening, and looks at her from beneath his eyelashes before squeezing her hand. "I know I promised breakfast. Would you please allow me to feed my creatures first? It won't take long, then I'll be more than happy to help you dress before feeding you." He leans in for another kiss, his thumb gently circling her nipple until she shivers.

"Go feed your creatures," Tina manages between kisses, "but when you get back, I may not be in the mind for _food_."

Newt growls playfully while sinking into her mouth, deepening the kiss into something positively indecent before pulling away. "Creatures," he says roughly and pushes her back to taste her breasts as she gasps at the ceiling, her fingers knotted in his hair. " _Creatures_ ," he repeats and makes it to his knees before Tina drags him down, kissing a slow path over his jaw and neck.

A bit of quick maneuvering on her part sees them flipped, straddling his waist as he looks up at her with hooded eyes. Newt looks almost irresistible this way, but she can see the shadow of worry in his face, the war between duty and desire being waged in his heart, and Tina realizes she has waited this long for him; what's another hour? She kisses him in apology before standing and helping him to his feet.

"I'm sorry—" he begins, only to be cut off when she wraps her arms around his shoulders and silences him with a kiss.

"What did I tell you about apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for," Tina murmurs, "but let me offer a different plan. Why don't you go feed the creatures while I make breakfast? Then, after we eat, if we're still hungry, we can take nourishment of a...different sort." Her cheeks feel hot, and she resists the urge to hide when his eyes widen before he scrapes his teeth over her bottom lip. "Um, if you still want to do that, I mean."

Newt kisses the hollow of her throat, making her shiver, before stepping back. "I do _so_ like that idea," he murmurs. "It's much better than mine." He fishes on the floor for her borrowed pajamas and passes them to her without comment, his eyes raking over her naked frame before wrenching himself away with a visible effort, loping across the room to his suitcase.

"I like my eggs sunny side up," he says with a toothy grin, and bends to open the latches before meeting her eyes, his expression suddenly sober. "Tina? Thank you. For — for everything. I don't think I could have survived yesterday without you there, I—"

"Stop," she says firmly, crossing the room to crouch down and push the hair out of his eyes. "Newt. Go feed your creatures. We'll talk and...other things when you get back, I promise."

He nods, pursing his lips before leaning forward to brush them over her cheek. She smiles as he climbs into his case, landing in the shed with a thump and calling a greeting to Dougal before the lid swings shut behind him. Tina moves it out of the way so she won't trip before shrugging into her pajama top and bloomers, leaving the rest of her bare for now.

"Not so bad after all, Goldstein," she murmurs approvingly, Summoning the eggs and a skillet before lighting the stove and putting the kettle on, filling the tiny flat with the domestic sounds of home as she awaits his return.

* * *

Thanks, as always, to Kemara for beta-reading, advice and encouragment. Come find me on Tumblr at katiehavok to scream about all things _Fantastic Beasts_ related.


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